Friday, December 21, 2012

Check out my latest film review, Truth and deceit take center stage in 'Argo', an in-depth look at the new Ben Affleck thriller, "Argo," available at Master Heart Magazine (www.MasterHeartMagazine.com). To find out more about the movie, click here, and to see the film's trailer, click here.

It’s always a joy to watch a master creator at work, no matter what endeavor is being pursued. The passion for producing one’s heartfelt desires is indeed something to behold, not only for the one ensconced in the creative process but also for anyone fortunate enough just to watch. Such is the focus of the engaging new biopic, “Hitchcock.”

In 1959, legendary film director Alfred Hitchcock (Anthony Hopkins) was at the top of his game. Having just released “North by Northwest,” yet another in a string of successful pictures, he was riding high in Hollywood. Or was he? The master of suspense had earned a well-deserved reputation for making thrillers that captivated viewers and lit up box offices. But, despite his impressive track record, some began raising questions about the filmmaker and his work. He had made so many movies like his most recent release that some were wondering whether his creativity had peaked. Some also suggested that his recent foray into television with his enormously popular series Alfred Hitchcock Presents had “cheapened” his image as an artist. So was the auteur truly a man at the pinnacle of his career? Or was he perched atop the crest of a wave that was about to come crashing down?

As for the director himself, in spite of his advancing age and faltering health, he believed he still had some untapped creativity in the tank. Nevertheless, he also recognized that perhaps his work was becoming a little stale, that maybe he had taken his singular style of suspense as far as it could go and needed to plumb new territory if he really wanted to push the creative envelope. To address this, he believed he needed to tackle material that was uniquely fresh and unreservedly audacious. But he also knew he’d meet with studio resistance in taking on such a risky project, mainly because any of his prior films that attempted to chart new ground, such as “Vertigo” (1958), generally (and inexplicably) bombed at the box office.

No matter how daunting these circumstances were, though, Hitchcock refused to be deterred, pushing ahead to find the right story that would meet his criteria, and he found it in, of all places, a chilling, grisly novel titled Psycho, by Robert Bloch. The book, loosely based on true events, chronicled the gruesome exploits of serial killer Norman Bates, and it told a horrific tale, one that Hitchcock knew would make a terrific picture.

Needless to say, given the movie’s grotesque subject matter (which represented new territory in the film industry at the time), production on “Psycho” (1960) met with resistance at every turn. Members of the media were aghast at the picture’s premise when Hitchcock introduced it at a press conference. Paramount Pictures President Barney Balaban (Richard Portnow) refused to bankroll it. Production Code Administrator Geoffrey Shurlock (Kurtwood Smith), who oversaw film industry censorship issues, threatened to withhold approval of the movie’s release certificate. Even Hitchcock’s wife and fiercely loyal collaborator, Alma Reville (Helen Mirren), was uncharacteristically hesitant about supporting the project, viewing it as a sensationalist, sadistic exercise that was beneath his considerable talent, sarcastically suggesting that maybe he should produce it as a musical starring Doris Day.

Hitchcock disagreed, criticisms and impediments notwithstanding, going so far as to mortgage his home to raise money and fund the movie as an independent production, with the studio serving only as distributor. He cast actress Janet Leigh (Scarlett Johansson) as his leading lady and relative newcomer Anthony Perkins (James D’Arcy) as the troubled protagonist, along with Hollywood staple Vera Miles (Jessica Biel) in a supporting role. “Psycho” was a huge gamble financially, artistically and professionally, but, in the end, it was one that paid off handsomely, becoming the most successful film of Hitchcock’s career.

So much for the detractors.

Regardless of what one might think about the subject matter of Hitchcock’s films, one can’t deny that he truly was a master of his genre. “Psycho” in particular, as gruesome as it was, broke cinematic ground in many ways, featuring unprecedented depictions of violent and suggestive content never before seen on screen. It was even the first picture to show the highly controversial image of a flushing toilet (horrors!). But, for better or worse, “Psycho” went on to attain considerable acclaim, including the distinction of being named the top celluloid thriller of all time according to the American Film Institute.

Hitchcock’s tremendous accomplishments, both in “Psycho” and in virtually all of his films, stemmed from his conscious creation proficiency. He believed so passionately in his work that the elements of his creations came together with seemingly effortless precision, just as any materialization birthed by an ardent conscious creator operating from a position of unfettered intent would inevitably manifest. And, because Hitchcock intuitively understood this, success naturally followed. Like a maestro conducting a symphony, he took control of the creative process and milked it for all it was worth, even down to his expert, perfectly timed manipulation of audience responses (wait until you see the sequence portraying Hitchcock’s reaction to viewers seeing the film for the first time!).

Even when faced with challenges to overcome, Hitchcock was masterful at being able to attract workable solutions. For instance, when he searched for someone to adapt Bloch’s novel for the screen, he “fortuitously” stumbled upon Joseph Stefano (Ralph Macchio), an aspiring script writer with his own share of self-avowed neuroses (and who better to flesh out a character like Norman Bates?). Similarly, in casting Anthony Perkins as the tortured protagonist, Hitchcock found the perfect actor for the part, especially when Perkins confided to the director that there were elements of his character that he could relate to personally. Such synchronicities, as macabre as they might be, are nevertheless indicative of a conscious creator operating in top form.

Of course, the director’s success as a conscious creator arose in large part from him being true to himself and not really caring what others thought about it, a quality that typified both his personal and professional lives. For example, he made little attempt to conceal his passions for excess and the unconventional, be it in his work, his love of food and drink, and his infatuation with blonde femme fatales. He embraced such obsessions, attitudes and behaviors, no matter how crass, self-serving or unusual they may have been perceived, even by his beloved Alma.

Hitchcock also didn’t let fear stand in his way. He had no reservation examining subjects that no one else would touch. He believed, as conscious creation maintains, that all probabilities are capable of being expressed, including those that arise from “the dark side,” a quality that he sincerely believed we each possess. Some of us would probably like to deny our shadow’s existence, but Hitchcock wasn’t afraid to acknowledge it, or even to explore it, as he did unhesitatingly (albeit “benignly”) through his films. In that regard, we should all be so forthright.

When in need of insight, Hitchcock readily drew upon the resources available to him, too, again no matter how unconventional they were. For example, when he sought inspiration during the filming of “Psycho,” he would try to envision what the killer would do, occasionally even appearing to tap into the consciousness of Ed Gein (Michael Wincott), the real-life individual on whom Norman’s character was based. The “advice” of this ghoulish muse would invariably help to show him the way. Likewise, when shooting the infamous shower scene in “Psycho,” Hitchcock was not getting the reaction he wanted out of his leading lady; he believed Janet Leigh was coming across too timidly for the imminent terror her character was facing, and the actress’s repeated failure to live up to his expectations angered him. He became so frustrated at this that he assumed the reins of Bates’s character and lunged ferociously at Leigh, his rage fueled by the anger he was harboring toward those who he thought were sabotaging his project, such as Balaban and Shurlock. Needless to say, that impulsive gesture got him the reaction he was looking for.

But what was perhaps most significant about Hitchcock’s work as a filmmaker (and his proficiency as a conscious creator) was his enduring desire to innovate. As noted above, he believed he still had untapped creativity within him at a time when some were suggesting that he should hang things up. He proved through his choice of “Psycho” as a project, his inventiveness in filming the picture, his inspired marketing campaign for the movie and even his novel means of financing it (atypical at the time) that he was willing to try the untried, pushing the envelope not only for himself but also for his art form and his industry. His eagerness to boldly take things in such new directions is one of the hallmarks of conscious creation, aptly reflecting the oft-cited observation of author/philosopher Jane Roberts that “we’re all in a constant state of becoming.”

“Hitchcock” is one of the most enjoyable movies I’ve seen in a long time, fun in virtually every respect. It’s a terrifically campy romp through the Hollywood of 1960, a well-made period piece reminiscent of movies like “My Week with Marilyn” (2011), meticulous in all of its historical details. It also features ample laughs and superb performances by Hopkins (a strong awards contender), Mirren and a fine supporting cast. The film’s portrayal of Hitchcock’s private life (particularly the strain in his relationship with Alma) doesn’t work quite as well as its depiction of his professional and creative sides, but it doesn’t take away from the picture’s overall quality either.

Alfred Hitchcock truly was an original, a one-of-a-kind whose likes and works may be imitated but never duplicated (as the forgettable 1998 remake of “Psycho” clearly illustrates). His contributions to cinema, no matter how one sees them, were undeniably innovative, opening doors that were previously closed, even unenvisioned, thereby paving the way for the many successors who would follow. In conscious creation terms, this is known as living out one’s value fulfillment, and live it out he did, masterfully and with distinction. “Hitchcock” is a fitting tribute to the man and his art and to what we can all achieve when we allow ourselves to be the master creators we were all born to be.

Bold moves often pay off in big rewards. Thinking through one’s aspirations, and then following them up with practical, inspired action, frequently yield tremendous benefits, not only for the initiator, but also for all who are touched by their realization. It’s a concept made plain in the sweeping new historical drama, “Lincoln.”

In January 1865, not long after Abraham Lincoln (Daniel Day-Lewis) was elected to his second term as the sixteenth President of the United States, the commander-in-chief oversaw the waning days of the American Civil War, an exceedingly bloody conflict that divided the nation and turned brother against brother. Yet, despite the heavy toll that the war had taken on the country, it was only a matter of time before the Union forces led by General Ulysses S. Grant (Jared Harris) would defeat their Confederate counterparts.

But Lincoln wanted more than just an end to the conflict; he also sought to have the House of Representatives pass a Constitutional amendment, to be sent to the states for ratification, bringing a formal end to slavery, one of the driving forces that prompted the outbreak of the war. And, even though he had issued the Emancipation Proclamation freeing the slaves two years earlier, Lincoln was uncertain whether this Presidential directive would successfully withstand legal challenges after the war’s end, so he wanted the amendment passed to ensure slavery’s demise – once and for all.

Since slavery had contributed so significantly to the nation’s deep, painful schism, Lincoln was convinced that ending this abomination was essential to reunite the country and heal its wounds. But, even more than that, he believed it was fundamentally the right thing to do. However, with the conflict quickly drawing to a close and the peace movement steadily gaining momentum, Lincoln had to act fast to see his goal realized. The nation had grown war weary, so there was strong support to end hostilities and negotiate peace with the Confederacy, regardless of what happened on the slavery issue. Even avid proponents of the amendment, such as Francis Preston Blair (Hal Holbrook), the founder of Lincoln’s own political party, believed the Union had to pursue peace overtures with the South, an initiative that the President reluctantly sanctioned to secure Blair’s backing for solidifying support for the amendment among his fellow Republicans in the House.

Appeasing both the abolitionists and the pacifists required Lincoln to walk a rather precarious tightrope, an effort that often required him to keep mum on certain matters, such as Blair’s peacemaking mission. And, to win over enough votes for passage of the amendment, he had to assemble a coalition of members of both political parties, an effort that took a great deal of old-fashioned horse trading to accomplish. However, with the zealous support of abolitionist legislator Thaddeus Stevens (Tommy Lee Jones), the pragmatic diplomacy of Secretary of State William Seward (David Strathairn), and the wheeling and dealing of lobbyist/operative William Bilbo (James Spader), Lincoln genuinely believed he could secure the amendment’s passage – provided that time didn’t run out on him first.

In addition to balancing all of his political priorities, Lincoln had his share of domestic challenges to juggle at the time. Chief among them was the ongoing emotional instability of his wife, First Lady Mary Todd Lincoln (Sally Field), who was devastated by the loss of their son Willie in 1862. The President and First Lady also wrestled with the decision of their son Robert (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) to enlist in the military, a move that both parents strongly opposed. Yet, for all of the trials and tribulations that Lincoln encountered in both his political and family lives, none of them would compare to the one he would face on a fateful evening at the theatre in April 1865.

Conscious creators who truly understand how the philosophy works realize that the external reality we experience springs forth from our internal beliefs and intents. The more aware we are of those aims, the more proficient we become at manifesting an existence that suits us. Indeed, the more clearly we express ourselves metaphysically, the more likely we’re able to attract to us materializations in line with our expectations. Inspiration thus soars, making potential solutions more readily apparent and goals more readily attainable. In essence, then, conscious creation, when properly executed, makes it possible to bring our internal and external worlds into alignment, marrying the intangible and the tangible, the theoretical and the pragmatic, even the idealistic and the achievable.

For his part, Lincoln understood this need for balance perfectly. He truly believed that noble intents could give birth to virtuous outcomes. But he also realized that practical means were frequently required to bring such results into being; vacuous optimism and purely altruistic arguments simply wouldn’t cut it. And, even if workable solutions didn’t instantly materialize when needed, he knew intuitively that they would synchronistically appear.

For instance, Lincoln was convinced that he could win over the support of representatives who were reluctant to back the Constitutional amendment, but he also knew that it would take more than just lofty speeches to get them in his corner. Some palms would need to be greased, some compromises would have to be struck and even some gentle arm-twisting was in order. But, given the tremendous stakes at issue – the elimination of slavery and the reunification of the nation – he wasn’t above employing such shrewd measures if they would further these causes and contribute to the eventual manifestation of his heartfelt beliefs. Those seeking fulfillment of idealistic objectives would be wise to take a cue from Lincoln’s success, because wishful thinking or merely hoping desired outcomes into being in most instances won’t suffice (at least as long as we choose to express ourselves as physical beings).

Lincoln was also acutely aware that it was unrealistic to bring about sweeping radical change all at once. Like many of his fellow abolitionists, he envisioned a nation in which the freed slaves would be able to enjoy a broad range of rights, such as voting. But, considering the magnitude of the change that abolishing slavery entailed, he realized that he couldn’t aggressively push such a progressive agenda at the time; getting an amendment passed to eliminate an institution that had been around since colonial times was quite an exacting ordeal in itself. Nevertheless, he was aware of the power of beliefs and of how ideas grow, so, with the amendment’s passage secured, he wasn’t averse to planting seeds for the future, introducing these notions into the national consciousness in hopes that they would one day take root (and we all know how those efforts eventually turned out).

Again, those looking to foment significant changes, be they in one’s own life or in society at large, should take a page from Lincoln on this. Even if the changes don’t occur in one’s own lifetime, that doesn’t mean they won’t eventually materialize. Individuals from all walks of life and all segments of society, from Susan B. Anthony to Jackie Robinson to Harvey Milk to Barack Obama, can attest to what the power of beliefs and their sustained nurturing can make possible.

Of course, none of us would get anywhere with this unless we’re also willing to face our fears. Drastic changes like those Lincoln sought to implement can be quite intimidating, if for no other reason than they involve trying the untried, stepping into the realm of uncharted territory, a daunting experience for many of us, to say the least. However, we’ll never know what can come from those dreamed-of probabilities unless we’re willing to take the first steps to explore them. As this film illustrates, Lincoln was willing to do that, and he set an example we can all draw from in our own pursuits into the unknown.

In many regards, “Lincoln” is quite an accomplished piece of filmmaking. As a period piece, it’s technically meticulous in its detail. And, as an actor’s showcase, it provides an excellent venue for the cast members to brilliantly show off their considerable talent, including Jones, Field, Strathairn and Holbrook, all of whom are strong, or at least potential, contenders for awards consideration. But Day-Lewis is the real star of this show; his magnificent portrayal of the beleaguered President easily makes him the frontrunner for best lead actor in this year’s awards competitions. In addition, John Williams’ beautiful original score, one of his best in years, provides a majestic musical backdrop for the action taking place on screen.

For all its virtues, however, “Lincoln” suffers from one huge undermining flaw – its tedious pacing. The campaign to secure passage of the Thirteenth Amendment is examined in such painstaking detail that the picture’s flow gets bogged down, resulting in a series of protracted talky sequences that can try the patience of even the most ardent history buff, yours truly included (at the screening I attended, audience members began walking out after only 45 minutes into the movie’s 2½-hour runtime).

In my opinion, the main problem is that the film never should have been made for the big screen. Since there is so little action and so much dialogue, “Lincoln” would have been a project much better suited to the small screen – as a public television broadcast or DVD – or as a stage play. It’s the kind of story that you want to watch when time isn’t an issue, perhaps while curled up on the couch on a gloomy winter afternoon or while spending a pleasant Saturday evening at the theatre. In its present form, however, it’s wasted on the big screen, rarely capitalizing on the attributes this cinematic milieu affords. Perhaps it will fare better as a home entertainment vehicle.

Still, despite this inherent drawback, the story in “Lincoln” is one worthy of being told. Were it not for the diligence of Lincoln’s efforts in securing the passage of the Thirteenth Amendment, the United States would likely be a very different country today. His passion, tenacity, practicality, leadership and skillful political maneuvering combined to bring about one of the biggest fundamental changes in the nation’s character, one that has often made it an example for other emerging democracies to emulate. And we’d all be wise to follow that inspired lead in our personal lives as well.

As any sports enthusiast can attest, it helps to have a game plan to achieve victory. The same is true in life, a challenge made all the more onerous when hampered by extenuating circumstances. The search for solutions under such conditions can be quite trying, too, as is revealed in the edgy romantic comedy, "Silver Linings Playbook."

Pat Solatano Jr. (Bradley Cooper) has a full plate to manage. Having been released from a mental health care facility where he was committed after flying into a jealous rage and assaulting the lover of his cheating wife Nikki (Brea Bee), he’s now attempting to reintegrate himself back into the routine of everyday life. He’s placed in the custody of his parents, Dolores (Jacki Weaver) and Pat Sr. (Robert De Niro), a risky proposition for an aging couple that has its own share of challenges to contend with, such as dad’s unemployment, his tendency toward obsessive-compulsive behavior and his habitual bookmaking on Philadelphia Eagles football games. Yet the folks’ issues pale in comparison to those of their son, who, despite eight months of treatment, is still seriously in need of getting a grip on reality.

While it’s important that Pat Jr. get a handle on his bipolar condition (diligently taking his meds and following the advice of his psychiatrist (Anupam Kher) would probably help), it’s more crucial that he make the attempt to face his life realistically. Specifically, he needs to address his denial regarding the state of his marriage, which, for all practical purposes, is over. Nikki wants nothing to do with Pat, even going so far as having a restraining order imposed against him, prohibiting all contact with her.

Nevertheless, Pat still loves Nikki, and he sincerely believes she still loves him. He’s desperate to prove his devotion and that he’s a changed man, and he’s willing to do anything to rekindle their romance, no matter what the cost. And, despite the odds seemingly being stacked against him, he’s convinced he can achieve the results he wants. Pat believes "silver linings" are not only possible but a foregone conclusion as long as he maintains a positive attitude and takes the right steps from his personal playbook to achieve them. But is this a realistic outlook or uncontrolled wishful thinking?

Not long after his release, Pat attends a dinner party hosted by his friends Ronnie (John Ortiz) and Veronica (Julia Stiles), one of Nikki’s best girlfriends. At the party, the couple introduces Pat to Veronica’s younger sister, Tiffany (Jennifer Lawrence), a recent widow with her own share of personal issues. Tiffany quickly takes a liking to Pat (her cool, detached way of showing it notwithstanding), but Pat resists her advances, citing the fact that he’s married. Tiffany tries to win him over, however, by mentioning that she’s occasionally in contact with Nikki through her older sister. She even says that she might be able to slip Nikki a letter from him, a clear violation of Pat’s restraining order, but a chance that both Pat and Tiffany are willing to take, each for their own very different reasons.

Pat ultimately decides to take Tiffany up on her offer, but she agrees on one condition: that Pat be her partner in an upcoming dance competition. Pat initially dismisses the idea, but, when faced with the prospect that this might be the only way to get a message to Nikki, he relents and agrees to Tiffany’s request. Much to his surprise, he quickly finds this new partnership quite enjoyable. In fact, dancing proves to be very therapeutic, enabling him to achieve focus in his life in ways that other measures previously haven’t allowed. Of course, the positive changes in Pat’s life occur as a result of more than just the dancing; his relationship with his partner has something to do with it, too. And, as the intimacy between the partners grows, it becomes apparent that something more than just two-stepping may be going on. It just might even make Pat forget all about wanting to see his message delivered.

Grasping the essence of our own reality is perhaps one of the most daunting tasks that budding practitioners of conscious creation will ever undertake. It requires waking up to the true nature of how our existence manifests, becoming aware of how our beliefs shape the character of the world around us. And that’s often difficult enough when we approach the task under "normal" conditions, but, when mental health issues get thrown into the mix, the challenge becomes that much more difficult (and one that those who are unaffected frequently misunderstand). Indeed, as conscious creation author Jane Roberts and her noncorporeal channeled entity Seth wrote in their seminal work The Nature of Personal Reality, mental illness is typically a condition in which those affected by it are generally incapable of reconciling the beliefs they hold for manifesting their realities with those employed by the rest of society, thereby creating a fundamental disconnect between the two. Overcoming that discrepancy thus becomes the principal task that the afflicted must face, one fraught with multiple challenges on multiple levels. And that’s essentially what Pat and, to a lesser degree, Tiffany must deal with if they ever hope to achieve peace of mind and contentment in their lives. The question, of course, is, will they be successful?

Getting to that point involves attaining mastery and control over one’s creations and the beliefs that spawn them. It requires an awareness of how the process works and the synchronicities that help point the way. It involves materializing elements that fill in the gaps needed to achieve happiness and fulfillment. But, perhaps even more importantly, it requires us to let go of the elements of our lives that no longer serve us, as well as whatever ego-driven pride that we’ve allowed to become associated with their creation. And all of this calls for a firm commitment on our part to see things through and to take responsibility for what we’ve done and will do going forward. That can be a pretty tall order for someone whose mental state is operating capably, but it can be that much more difficult for someone who’s combatting mental illness on top of it. Such are the challenges that the protagonists in this film must face, and most of us probably wouldn’t envy their burdens.

Fortunately, there are ways of compensating for inherent "deficiencies" that can help to keep us on track, and this is where the role of our conscience comes into play. Manifestations reflecting its presence in our lives can work wonders for keeping us in line. For instance, throughout the picture, Pat’s movements are shadowed by a policeman, Officer Keogh (Dash Mihok), who’s charged with keeping tabs on his actions and whereabouts. Whenever Pat gets out of line, the good constable always seems to have a way of showing up and reminding his subject of what he must to do to toe the line. To some this might seem like a strong-arm tactic, but, if Pat is ever to make good on the goals he’s set for himself, such scrutiny is a necessary creation to help ensure their fulfillment, and he should be thankful for manifesting the officer’s appearance whenever his presence would be most opportune. Anyone who has earnestly sought to realize a personally significant objective can no doubt relate to the value of such perfectly timed materializations and the benefits they ultimately afford, for, in the end, they just might yield success.

For all its strengths in exploring the foregoing themes, however, "Silver Linings Playbook" comes up short in many respects. The picture combines a strange amalgamation of elements that makes it come across like part "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest", part Dancing with the Stars and part Monday Night Football, all wrapped in what is allegedly a romantic comedy. And I say "allegedly" here because the movie’s sometimes-edgy nature makes this label seem quite ill-fitting. A number of emotionally volatile scenes quite justifiably had me questioning “So this is a romantic comedy?”

Moreover, I found the film was often quite enamored with the sense of its own quirkiness, an all-too-obvious attempt at trying to keep the picture from being seen as what is essentially a formula film characterized by inevitable predictability. These qualities, in turn, give rise to some very uneven writing. When it’s on, it works well, but when it’s not, it becomes rather trying, especially in several scenes that seem to go on unduly long. Its examination of the mental illness issue is somewhat uneven, too, sometimes handled deftly and at others clumsily. (For those interested in a picture that truly approaches this subject well, I’d heartily recommend the Ben Stiller comedy-drama "Greenberg" (2010) instead.)

Despite these shortcomings, the film does have its share of laughs, as well as a number of fine performances. Lawrence and De Niro are both excellent in their respective roles and have to be seen as strong contenders for awards consideration. And, for their part, Cooper and Weaver handle their characters quite capably as well. However, these assets aren’t enough to save a picture that’s trying to come across as being better than it truly is.

Saving ourselves from ourselves is, arguably, one of the most valuable pursuits we can undertake in life, and having a good grasp on our conscious creation skills can go a long way toward this goal’s realization. And, in getting there, it certainly helps to have a playbook to show us the way. Unfortunately, the example set by this film has far too many diversions to set us on a meaningful path to success, and, by following it, those hoped-for silver linings just may remain as elusive as ever.

The search for the meaning of life is as old as mankind, and countless thinkers have devoted innumerable hours pondering it. But not all of those seekers have been scholarly intellects residing in ivory towers; some have been average, everyday folks thrust into the unlikeliest of places or circumstances. Yet, no matter what conditions may prevail, they proceed with their searches in earnest, hoping to make sense out of the seemingly nonsensical, as is the case in the mythic new adventure, “Life of Pi.”

To hear it told, Professor Piscine Militor Patel (or “Pi” for short) has lived quite a remarkable life, though most people would probably never know it from meeting him. As an adult (Irrfan Khan), Pi lives a quiet life in Montreal with his wife and children, a far cry from the eventful days of a childhood and adolescence that he doesn’t talk much about. But, when word of that captivating upbringing catches the ear of an aspiring writer (Rafe Spall), Pi keeps his silence no longer and shares the story of his life.

Pi was born and raised in Pondicherry, India, a community that had once been under French control. Because of this, Pondicherry was influenced by a variety of religious, spiritual and metaphysical traditions, including those of the local Hindus and Muslims, as well as the Western teachings of Christians and rationalists. Pi was thus exposed to a wide variety of ideas growing up, and, as a serious and studious young man, he took them all to heart in an attempt to understand his world and his place in it.

Pi’s father, Santosh (Adil Hussain), was the proprietor of a privately owned zoo housed in the local botanical garden. He, too, was exposed to the same traditions as his son, but, as a businessman interested in the ways of the modern world, he took a much more “pragmatic” approach to life, choosing to embrace reason as his guiding principle. Santosh told his young son to “enjoy the stories” of the ancient religious traditions but urged him to take a rational approach to life, firmly believing that reason, and not “superstition,” would ultimately see him through life’s challenges.

With this background in place, the stage was thus set for Pi when he would come face to face with the biggest test of his life – and his faith – as an adolescent (Suraj Sharma). With changing political conditions and possible economic hardship looming, Santosh announced his plan to sell the animals in his zoo and use the funds to relocate his family to Winnipeg, where new business opportunities – and a new life – awaited them. Pi initially railed at the idea, but, when left with no choice, he was forced to go along with his father’s decision. And so, before long, Santosh, Pi, his mother Gita (Tabu), his brother Ravi (Vibish Sivakumar) and the family’s animal collection boarded a Japanese freighter bound for Canada.

Leaving India behind was painful for Pi. But it wasn’t nearly as devastating as what would happen next. During a powerful Pacific storm, the freighter capsized and sank. Pi’s parents and brother were lost, but he managed to escape, making his way to one of the lifeboats. He wasn’t alone, either; several of the animals managed to join him, including a zebra, a hyena, an orangutan and, most significantly, an adult Bengal tiger named Richard Parker. Thus began an incredible journey of survival, self-discovery and transformation for the young man who would clearly come to see the inner world of his beliefs reflected back to him through the eyes of another – and one who wasn’t even human.

This is the story that Pi tells his friend the author, who hangs on his every word. But is Pi’s story truly how things happened? Or is it his own version of one of “those stories” his father cautioned him about, a tale to be enjoyed but not to be taken literally? That, of course, is a question that viewers of “Life of Pi” must answer for themselves.

So much of what Pi experiences while lost at sea brings back the lessons of his youth. He comes to see the relevance and value of the various teachings he learned from the different religious, spiritual and metaphysical traditions he was exposed to while growing up. He experiences firsthand how the principles underlying those disciplines can serve him during this challenging time of personal growth and development, a true test of his integrity, morality and fortitude. And, fortunately, for his sake, he has the wherewithal to recognize their significance as they happen, enabling him to appreciate the wisdom of the teachings and their applicability to his current circumstances.

Indeed, the reality of the shipwreck draws sharply into focus the notion that our outer world is a mirror of our internal beliefs, one of the primary concepts behind conscious creation. And, because Pi so devotedly embraced the many spiritual traditions he encountered in his youth, he’s built up a storehouse of enlightened outlooks that make up the inherent character of his inner world, many of which are not only spiritual concepts but conscious creation principles as well, including the following:

• All things that manifest in our reality, for better or worse, happen for a reason, even if we’re not aware of that fact at the time we experience a particular phenomenon. The origin of such manifestations always begins with us, and their materialization is made possible through our relationship with our divine collaborator. This is true whether the phenomena are clothed in either metaphorical or practical guise. Understanding this also goes a long way toward appreciating the true nature of religious parables, those stories that provide us with valuable nuggets of insight about our relationship with the divine, the nature of our true character, and the joys and challenges of daily living.

• All of our experiences inevitably help to prepare us for what is to come in our lives, again, even if we’re not aware of it at the time they occur. For instance, Santosh is an avid swimmer, having embraced it as a means to overcome a childhood health issue. So, because he saw swimming in such a beneficial light, he strongly encouraged a youthful (and sometimes reluctant) Pi to become proficient at it, an ability that would obviously prove positively essential years later when he was adrift at sea – and in a better position to see its merit.

• An awareness of the foregoing notions leads to a better understanding of how the Universe fundamentally works and how our reality unfolds, and this is a skill that only gets stronger with more practice. This, in turn, allows us to achieve greater degrees of mastery and control over our abilities as conscious creators.

• Paying attention to life’s synchronicities, no matter how seemingly improbable and, again, whether clothed metaphorically or practically, gives us a richer sense of our lives and how they blossom. In many ways, such awareness speaks directly to the “rational” approach to life that Santosh so passionately adheres to. But it also falls in line with the spiritual traditions Pi has so fervently embraced, disciplines that rely on such “knowing” as a means to better understand our divine conscious creation partner.

• Given that the existence we experience stems from us working in collaboration with our divine co-creator, there’s nothing that comes to us that we haven’t had a hand in manifesting. Therefore, there’s value to be had in everything we experience, for better or worse. It means that we dwell in an inherently “safe” Universe, one that helps provide the means for our personal growth and development and will not give us more than we’re capable of handling. This is particularly true in the areas of facing our fears, overcoming limitations that impede our advancement and enabling us to grow stronger as individuals, as Pi discovers for himself repeatedly in his often-tumultuous relationship with Richard Parker.

• If we truly believe in the power of All That Is to provide us with materializations that are in line with our beliefs, wants and needs, then we must have faith in its ability to so comply. To that end, we need to let go of our expectations regarding the form those manifestations ultimately take. We must relinquish our control over the “how” of materialization and let the Universe provide, for, as author and conscious creation advocate Jane Roberts observed, it invariably “leans in our direction.” Pi witnesses this repeatedly while shipwrecked. For example, when he pleads with the Universe to supply fish to feed the ravenously carnivorous Richard Parker and meets with no success in catching any on his own, a school of flying fish appears miraculously, seemingly out of nowhere, filling the boat with food that more than meets the big cat’s needs. The intention was thus fulfilled, even if it didn’t take the form Pi was expecting. In that regard, then, we’d all be better off if we just sit back and let All That Is do its thing; it’s far more capable than we could ever hope to be at coming up with solutions that effectively fulfill our requests.

Clearly, “Life of Pi” has much to offer in the way of metaphysical and spiritual insights. Regrettably, however, these eloquent, profound ideas aren’t always conveyed as well as they could be. The many notions it touches upon aren’t always developed as fully or presented as coherently as they might have been. Perhaps it’s because there are so many notions vying for viewer attention that they end up unwittingly competing with one another. The expectation of profound “aha!” moments is instead met with a series of underwhelming “oh, ok” moments. A stronger, better defined script would have gone a long way toward alleviating this problem.

Uneven pacing, an issue all too common in director Ang Lee’s work, makes its presence felt again in this film, and correcting this deficiency may have also helped clarify the picture’s messages. For instance, the movie’s opening sequence, which provides the necessary setup for what’s to come, goes on unduly long and is somewhat clumsily handled. We’re introduced to two of the film’s principal characters – Pi as an adult and his author friend – through a bland, plodding and sometimes seemingly pointless conversation that can’t help but cause viewers to legitimately wonder “Who are these people, why are we meeting them and why we should care?” As a consequence, the director nearly loses control of the room in the first 30 minutes. Admittedly, Lee redeems himself somewhat as the picture progresses, but the impact is somewhat watered down by the ill-handled opening.

Despite these faults, “Life of Pi” is exquisitely filmed, with terrific cinematography and excellent special effects (even if it doesn’t always make the best use of its 3-D technology). The picture also features a fine performance by first-timer Sharma, capably handling the exacting demands of the role of unexpected castaway, and a lovely, emotive soundtrack. It’s unfortunate that the quality of the rest of the film doesn’t measure up to that of these strengths; if it had, this would have been a truly epic picture, but, instead, viewers are left with an ambitious near-miss.

Meaning has a way of showing up when one least expects it, even under the most unforeseen conditions. That should give us all hope to go on, no matter how seemingly dire the circumstances are. “Life of Pi” illustrates that (albeit not always as effectively as it could), but it nevertheless inspires us to keep searching, for, in the end, we’ll never know what we’ll find unless we continue looking.

It’s been said “We are what we eat,” an observation that frequently proves right on the money. But, in my experience, I’ve found that we often are everything we do in our lives, especially the acts that comprise a part of our existence that many of us are averse to talk about, sex. Yet, if we’re truly honest with ourselves, we’re likely to find that we indeed are what we do sexually. So imagine what it must be like for someone who’s living a life without it – what would that say about him? And what would it say about him once he finally has the opportunity to experience it? Such is the odyssey of a disabled, middle-aged virgin who finally has the chance to come of age in the touching, fact-based story of "The Sessions."

Mark O’Brien (John Hawkes) lives a life most people would probably find discouraging. As a childhood polio victim who defied the odds and grew into adulthood, he has no use of his limbs, spends most of his time confined to an iron lung and requires nearly constant care. But, despite these limitations, Mark has not allowed his disabilities to deter him from living his life. He earned his college degree from the University of California, Berkeley, becoming a writer, poet and advocate for the disabled.

However, his academic and career accomplishments notwithstanding, Mark’s life has been anything but typical. Many of the things that we take for granted simply aren’t part of his everyday existence, and this is perhaps most apparent in an area many of us would consider significant – sex. At age 38, he’s never experienced anything even remotely approaching a sexual encounter, and, with his longevity increasingly in question (given the nature of his condition and his advancing age), it’s an area he’d like to explore while he still has the chance.

Mark’s physical state, by itself, makes this prospect a challenging proposition; the logistics alone are indeed problematic. But, if that weren’t enough, Mark’s desire to explore this uncharted part of his life is further complicated by the conflicted beliefs he holds about sex, thanks mostly to his devout Roman Catholic upbringing. He’s so uncertain about how to proceed that, before he even begins examining his options, he consults his parish priest, Father Brendan (William H. Macy), for guidance.

One might question the wisdom of seeking advice on a subject from someone who’s likely to be just as clueless about it as the inquirer is. But that issue quickly proves irrelevant. Through their many conversations, Mark and Father Brendan develop a rapport more like friends than like priest and parishioner, even though their discussion topics involve profound questions of personal morality and spirituality. For instance, Mark expresses sincere trepidation about his desire to explore sexuality outside of marriage, a cardinal prohibition of traditional Catholicism and, allegedly, the word of God. At the same time, he also freely admits to a belief that God has a "wicked sense of humor," one that he envisions typified by such images as a Heavenly Father chortling over his trials and tribulations at reconciling the challenge foisted upon him. So, when Mark finally asks Father Brendan how he should proceed, the kindly vicar says reflectively, "Given your circumstances, I think He’d give you a pass on this one." And so, with that "blessing," Mark begins investigating his options.

After several false starts at initiating a sex life, such as with one of his caregivers, Amanda (Annika Marks), Mark finally decides to engage the services of a sexual surrogate, Cheryl Cohen-Greene (Helen Hunt). Their sessions together, though definitely sexual in nature, are intended to be educational and therapeutic, not tawdry or lascivious. Because Mark has never experienced much in the way of physical touch, let alone physical touch of an erotic nature, Cheryl focuses on issues of body awareness, teaching him about sensations with which he’s largely unacquainted. She also coaches him about what it’s like to interact with a partner. And, through it all, she approaches her work with a curious mixture of professional detachment and intimate, though not necessarily personal, involvement, a practice that often involves precariously walking a very fine line.

Through their sessions, which are limited to six meetings (a professional standard meant to distinguish the services of a surrogate from those of a prostitute), Mark comes to learn what pleases him and what it takes to please a woman. And he definitely enjoys the sessions, no matter how unintentionally "abbreviated" they might be. Over time, though, he grows more accustomed to and comfortable with the sensations and the experience. In fact, sex even becomes quite revelatory for him, especially as he becomes more intimately acquainted with the feelings associated with the experience. But the awakenings that come out of these sessions are anything but one-sided; as the student learns from the teacher, so, too, does the teacher learn from the student, an unexpected development that stuns even the seasoned instructor. The experience ultimately changes everyone in profound and unexpected ways – and forever.

As with any experience that’s part of our reality, there are beliefs driving what we manifest. This cornerstone principle of the conscious creation process underlies all aspects of our existence, from the environment in which we dwell to the people with whom we interact to all of the activities in which we engage – even sex. The idea that this act can be reduced to purely a mechanistic operation or animalistic urge fails to recognize that it, too, arises from underlying beliefs that impel its manifestation from the realm of potential into the world of the physically expressed.

How that experience unfolds, of course, depends on the beliefs in question, and they often involve factors that go beyond one’s preferences for superficial physical considerations like gender and body type. It often includes less tangible, less recognizable qualities, such as one’s own self-image, expectations and limitations, elements that frequently do more to define the nature of the materialized sexual experience than anything having to do with partiality for a particular shade of hair color or physique.

These considerations become apparent in both protagonists’ experiences. For instance, someone in Mark’s circumstances might easily look upon his personal physical limitations as an insurmountable hindrance to enjoying a sex life of any kind, let alone a fulfilling one. The same could be said of the religious notions he wrestles with, those self-imposed, guilt-driven barriers that could easily derail one’s path to pleasure. On some level, though, Mark obviously believes otherwise; if he didn’t, he would not have been able to manifest the experiences he ultimately encounters, both during his time with Cheryl and in his life thereafter. In large part, this becomes possible as a result of his beliefs associated with, first, genuinely accepting his circumstances and, subsequently, envisioning their transcendence, moving past his initial creation to one greater than what he initially materialized. He uses his powers of conscious creation to plug the gaps in his reality, filling in the missing pieces that allow him to actually experience what might otherwise remain merely a vision. This is truly significant personal growth, and its relevance in the sexual arena is just as valid as in any other area of one’s life.

Interestingly, though, Mark is not the only one to experience such transcendence. Cheryl goes through her own transformation as well, thanks to unexpected developments in her dealings with Mark. As someone who has long managed to skillfully maneuver the razor’s edge separating professional distance from personal engagement, Cheryl initially handles her involvement with Mark as she would with any other client. But, as time passes and she begins to see the effect she’s having on him, she begins to shift her own beliefs, coming to appreciate the impact of what she’s now enabling for him, allowing herself to receive the feelings he so freely gives her and, perhaps most importantly, letting her own personal emotions regarding a client to surface for the first time. Suddenly, her work seems less clinical, more heartfelt, than she’s ever experienced before, a development that impacts her not only professionally, but also personally.

In the end, then, our sexual experiences are as much a product of who we are and what beliefs we hold as they are of any particular preferences we have or any particular acts in which we engage, and the evolution of Mark’s and Cheryl’s beliefs bears this out. The better the handle we have on what beliefs we hold, the more conscious we’ll be of the experiences they yield and the degree of pleasure that we get out of them. Such awareness will also allow us to make whatever adjustments we deem necessary to improve the quality of eroticism we enjoy. The richness and fulfillment to come out of these experiences thus serve as some of the best examples of the joy and power inherent in the act of creation.

"The Sessions" is arguably one of the best, and thus far most underrated, offerings of this year’s awards season films. It exceeded my expectations by a long shot, skillfully telling a story that’s simultaneously heartfelt, touching and wickedly funny. It’s also one of those unusual pictures that starts out well and gets better as it goes along (how often does one see something like that these days?). The performances by Hawkes and Hunt are exemplary, perhaps the best work each of them has ever done, and both have to be considered highly viable awards contenders. The writing, editing and direction are top-notch, too, making for a very cohesive overall package.

Two cautions are in order, however. First, don’t be deceived by the movie’s promotional trailer; it paints a somewhat misleading picture of the film, making it look like a high-end sex comedy, which, despite ample humor, it clearly is not (and, regrettably, sells the movie short). Second, the film is very sexually explicit, with frequent nudity and unabashed discussion and depiction of sexual topics; those who are sensitive to these issues or are easily offended should clearly avoid this picture.

A rewarding sex life has the potential to show us much about ourselves, yet all too often we allow personal or philosophical limitations to get in the way, keeping us from enjoying the experience and perhaps even preventing us from discovering unknown parts of ourselves. "The Sessions" illustrates the significance of this – the value of breaking through such barriers, of finding our own personal uncharted territories and of exploring the resplendent beauty within them. Indeed, making time for "sessions," be they those depicted in this movie or those of your own creation, is undoubtedly time well spent.

Frequent flyers have no doubt experienced their share of bumpy flights. Even under the best of conditions, there are times when turbulence can make these journeys a little difficult to get through. Such is also the case, metaphorically speaking, with the latest offering from director Robert Zemeckis, "Flight."

"Whip" Whitaker (Denzel Washington) is a highly capable commercial pilot, well-versed in flight procedures and aircraft capabilities. He’s also an alcoholic – granted, a highly functioning alcoholic, but an alcoholic nevertheless. This combination of attributes makes for a potentially volatile mix, too – especially when he steps into the cockpit.

One rainy morning, Whip is scheduled to pilot a flight from Orlando to Atlanta. It’s a short trip, one that should be a breeze. But things get off to a shaky start when foul weather results in a rough take-off. Fortunately, Whip successfully steers the aircraft into clear air, putting the plane on course for what should be a smooth flight. Comfortable with the flying conditions, he hands over the helm to his co-pilot, Ken Evans (Brian Geraghty), after which he secretly helps himself to a cocktail and nods off for a nap. And, working with a flight crew that routinely covers for him, he’d ordinarily be able to get away with such reckless behavior without incident, but hopes for that get dashed when circumstances take a sudden, unexpected turn: Not long before landing, the jet begins seriously malfunctioning, threatening to break apart while in midair.

Whip snaps awake and takes charge of the situation, performing a daring maneuver to stabilize the aircraft long enough to get it into position for an emergency landing in an open field. During its final descent, however, the plane clips the steeple of a church, crashing to the ground and shattering. Miraculously, most of the passengers and crew survive, including Whip, who’s hailed as a hero. Those accolades are short-lived, though, when the results of his blood alcohol test show that he was legally drunk, an offense that could land him in prison.

The airline quickly goes into damage control mode, hiring attorney Hugh Lang (Don Cheadle) to handle the case. Lang seeks to quash Whip’s blood test results (citing procedural irregularities) in an effort to divert attention away from pilot error as a possible cause of the crash. But the success of that tactic is far from guaranteed, especially since the crash inquiry is being handled by one of the NTSB’s most scrupulous investigators, Ellen Block (Melissa Leo).

While on leave from flying during the investigation’s pendency, Whip’s free to focus on healing his crash injuries. During his hospital stay, he meets Nicole Maggen (Kelly Reilly), a heroin addict recovering from a near overdose. Their "chance" encounter quickly evolves into a romance, one that seems to suit both of them well in many ways. But their relationship is threatened when each follows a different path with regard to their respective addictions. Nicole is intent on quitting drugs, while Whip resists getting sober, contending that his drinking is a conscious choice, one that he’ll give up when, and only when, he’s ready.

Whip’s decision thus brings him face to face with some hard choices on a number of fronts. Will he be able to hold on to his relationship with Nicole, perhaps one of the best developments to come along in his life in quite some time? Can he hold his own in the face of a thorough and potentially career-ending government investigation? But, perhaps most importantly, is he capable of staring down his demons and achieving recovery? Just as Whip maintains with regard to his decision to drink, everything comes down to the conscious choices that he elects to make. The question thus becomes, which ones will he choose?

As conscious creation practitioners are well aware, we create the reality we experience based on the beliefs we choose to embrace. The manifestation of our existence falls directly in line with those choices, for better or worse, so it’s incumbent upon us to choose wisely. In Whip’s case, he maintains that his drinking is clearly a conscious choice. But, based on the events that transpire in his life, it’s also abundantly clear that he’s not fully cognizant of the consequences that can stem from such a choice. He rationalizes the results when they bring "unintended" outcomes, even resorting to lying or shifting blame when it becomes convenient or necessary to disavow himself of un-consciously or semi-consciously created materializations. However, when the stakes become ever more significant, it becomes increasingly difficult for him to continue denying the results – or the source of their origin. In a case like this, accepting awareness of, and responsibility for, one’s creations becomes imperative.

Moreover, the longer we remain in denial of such circumstances, the more the ante gets upped to force us into their acknowledgment. And just how does the ante get upped? That’s where our divine conscious creation collaborator comes into play: When we refuse to address our choices and implement needed changes, the Universe (or God, Goddess, All That Is, Source or whatever other term best suits you) steps in, yielding conditions based on our existing beliefs in ever-increasing degrees of magnitude to get our attention and compel us into examining them. If we recognize what’s going on and make the necessary adjustments, new beliefs form and new manifestations arise from them, replacing the previously prevailing conditions. However, if we fail to acknowledge the true nature behind what we’re manifesting, the existing pattern will persist, and the ante will continue to get upped even further.

Some may see such circumstances as a cruel joke or the retribution of an unloving, capricious Supreme Being. Indeed, in one scene in the film, Lang explains that one of the causes of the crash under investigation is "an act of God," a notion that prompts Whip to ask rhetorically, "Whose God would do this?" Whip’s comeback, however, reveals his failure to recognize that his divine collaborator is presenting him with an opportunity to take a hard look at his choices and the consequences they birth. And, as long as Whip persists in that failure, the Universe will likewise persist in prompting him to examine his beliefs and their outcomes – with ever-increasing degrees of intensity.

This act (and others like it) are far from being the whims of an unsupportive Universe. Rather, they’re the gestures of a truly loving God, one that so genuinely wants for its souls to succeed in learning valuable life lessons that it’s willing to go so far as to engage in such acts of tough love in order to make its point known. Conscious creators who are well-versed in this practice recognize the hand of their divine collaborator at work when such circumstances arise, enabling them to examine their beliefs (and their resulting creations) and to make whatever changes are necessary to spawn new, more suitable outcomes.

For Whip’s sake, one can only hope that he recognizes the divine hand at work and takes appropriate steps to make the most of the opportunities afforded him before it’s too late. Indeed, the prospect of salvation is a significant theme in the film, and it’s reflected repeatedly through numerous visual and narrative references (often directly invoking the name or image of God). It’s a concept that even Whip himself appears well-acquainted with, having successfully saved souls in peril on many occasions, including both his passengers and crew, as well as the new love interest in his life. But, despite his aptitude in rescuing others, does he possess the vision and wisdom to see the need to save himself? Is he aware of the assistance so freely being offered to him by All That Is, as well as by the likes of Nicole, Lang and his longtime friend, pilots’ union representative Charlie Anderson (Bruce Greenwood)? And, even if so, will he ultimately allow it?

The payoffs from following the divine lead in this regard can be significant in many ways. By successfully addressing our beliefs and making changes where warranted, we have the opportunity to face fears, overcome self-imposed limitations and conquer self-destructive tendencies, some of which may also have adverse impact on others. As a consequence, we may thus make it possible to achieve mastery and control over our beliefs (especially those of a potentially "negative" nature), produce more satisfying creations, and perhaps even attain salvation or transcendence. Anyone who has successfully tackled addictive behaviors can no doubt attest to the benefits of these results.

However, despite the film’s successful treatment of the foregoing ideas, "Flight" comes up short in many other respects. Perhaps the biggest problem is that the picture feels innately "incomplete." A number of story elements and narrative themes are raised, and danced around, but never fully or satisfactorily explored. For instance, the reasons behind Whip’s alcoholism are never made clear, and even when one possible trigger is hinted at, we find out that his binging began before the events in question. In the alternative, if the film was attempting to suggest that Whip’s drinking arose for no readily discernible reason (as some recovering alcoholics would contend can happen), then this intent should have been made plainly apparent (which it is not). The inclusion of a more substantial back story, or at least a more clearly defined intent, would have worked wonders here. Instead, viewers are left with a big mystery, one that creates a significant hole in the movie’s principal narrative. And this deficiency is just one such example of many that hamper the film’s overall character.

Given the nature of the picture’s story line, it’s not difficult to predict its outcome. To counter such inherent predictability, a movie can overcome an innate pitfall like this by providing audiences with an engaging path to the anticipated conclusion. In the case of "Flight," however, the plotline is riddled with so many gaps and underdeveloped ideas that viewers wind up at the foreseen ending without a clear sense of how or why they got there (or whether they should even care once they do).

To its credit, "Flight" features some terrific performances, most notably those of Washington (very likely a serious contender for a number of awards season nominations) and Cheadle, as well as great special effects and a dynamite soundtrack showcasing the music of the Rolling Stones, the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Joe Cocker and the Cowboy Junkies. However, these strengths, as well as the picture’s capable exploration of the conscious creation concepts noted above, have their work cut out for them to make up for the film’s other shortcomings.

Those who’ve battled addiction often say they that their experiences are a form of escape, of "taking flight" into a reality removed from the vestiges of daily life. Doing so may seem to alleviate one’s difficulties, however, it can also easily become an abrogation of our responsibility as aware and actively engaged conscious creators. The consequences of such actions can be extensive and profound, too, as the film’s protagonist comes to discover the hard way. The sooner we own up to this, the less turbulence – and the more clear skies – we’re all likely to experience.

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Check out my review of "Cloud Atlas," the premiere entry of Brent Marchant's Conscious Creation Goes to the Movies at Master Heart Magazine (www.MasterHeartMagazine.com/). Just click on the tab "Brent's Movies" on the site's home page.

Thursday, November 8, 2012

I'm thrilled to announce a new home for my reviews of current movies! Beginning this Friday, November 9, look for my latest offerings on the web pages of Master Heart Magazine (www.MasterHeartMagazine.com). Just look for the banner "Brent's Movies" on the site's home page. You can even get a preview of my work by clicking here.

I'm excited about my new partnership with Master Heart, and I hope you'll stop by regularly to check out my reviews, as well as all of Master Heart's other wonderful, insightful content. And, while you're at it, sign up for Master Heart's newsletter on the site's home page and get a free gift for doing so!

What do a 19th Century lawyer, a 20th Century composer, an investigative reporter, a frazzled book publishing executive, a genetically engineered human and a post-apocalyptic shepherd have in common? Surprisingly, plenty, their disparate realities full of unlikely connections that link them across the span of time. And those seemingly unrelated bonds are now brought to life in an inspiring and innovatively engaging new film, “Cloud Atlas.”

“Cloud Atlas” is arguably one of the most unique pictures to come out in a long time. It features six interwoven plot lines, spanning several centuries, that, at first glance, come across like stories capable of standing on their own. Yet the uncanny parallels that permeate them draw attention to a number of common threads, themes that connect the different narratives across time. These connections are further reinforced through the film’s stellar writing, its deftly executed editing and the performances of its principal cast members, most of whom play multiple roles in the picture’s various sequences, suggesting reincarnational, even karmic, links among the characters – and their eternal spirits – through the ages.

As the film opens, viewers are provided with setups for each of the following story lines:

* Adam Ewing (Jim Sturgess), a young lawyer working for his wealthy, slave-owning father-in-law (Hugo Weaving), seeks to curry favor with the old man by handling a business deal for him in the South Pacific’s Chatham Islands in 1849. In doing so, however, Adam gets to see firsthand the deplorable treatment inflicted upon the slave population, a circumstance that troubles him. Also, as one who's unaccustomed to the harsh conditions of this far-off land, he falls ill. He's placed under the care of Dr. Henry Goose (Tom Hanks), an ostensibly kind physician, but one whose treatments are questionable, to say the least. So, with his business concluded and his health failing, Adam sets sail for home. However, despite Dr. Goose’s seemingly attentive care, Adam grows weaker with each passing day, and, before long, he finds himself on a journey that places his life and his fortunes at risk. Adam’s only aid comes from an unlikely source – Autua (David Gyasi), a stowaway slave for whom he secures freedom. But, given Adam’s progressively dire condition, it’s unclear whether he’ll be able to survive the trip back to America. And, even if he does, his life is unlikely to ever be the same again.

* Robert Frobisher (Ben Whishaw) is one of the most talented – and most unknown – contemporary composers in 1930s England. His lack of notoriety is fueled, in part, by the “reputation” that dogs him; despite his efforts at maintaining discretion, word of Robert’s sexual exploits with members of both genders has a way of leaking out. In fact, that reputation contributes to his decision to part company with the love of his life, Rufus Sixsmith (James D’Arcy), an aspiring Cambridge physicist; he doesn’t want to sully the good name of his companion, even if his own is tarnished. Besides, Robert has an opportunity to advance his career by relocating to Scotland to work as an amanuensis for a once-famous but aging composer, Vyvyan Ayrs (Jim Broadbent), who seeks to have his remaining pieces transcribed before his demise. Through his association with Ayrs, the young composer has a chance to birth his own material and to make new connections in the music world, as well as an opportunity to redeem himself. But will his senior associate allow that? And just how far is Robert willing to go to see his aspirations realized?

* Investigative reporter Luisa Rey (Halle Berry) is looking for the story that gives her that sought-after big break. Working as a journalist for a San Francisco alternative newspaper in 1973, she’s assigned to report on a controversial nuclear power plant. She initially feels like she’s being “handled” by the power company’s spin masters, such as CEO Lloyd Hooks (Hugh Grant). However, through a series of seemingly improbable synchronicities, Luisa makes contact with several would-be whistleblowers – one of the plant’s chief physicists, Rufus Sixsmith (remember him?), who has compiled potentially devastating information about the facility's reactor, and Dr. Isaac Sachs (Tom Hanks), one of Sixsmith’s colleagues, who discreetly keeps his peer’s findings secret. Will the damaging information be made public? Or will Luisa and her sources fall prey to the strong-arm silencing tactics of the power company’s enforcer, Bill Smoke (Hugo Weaving)? The stakes are high for everyone involved – as well as the population of the nearby Bay Area.

* Financially beleaguered publisher Timothy Cavendish (Jim Broadbent) unexpectedly becomes a hot commodity when one of his authors, gangster Dermot Hoggins (Tom Hanks), brutally kills an unflattering critic at a present-day high-profile book release party in London. Timothy is initially appalled by the tragic events, but he’s quickly elated when the book becomes a surprise hit. Timothy’s jubilation is short-lived, though, when Dermot’s family puts the screws to him, demanding outlandishly enormous royalty payments – in cash. Timothy seeks assistance from his wealthy older brother, Denholm (Hugh Grant), but he summarily dismisses his junior sibling’s request due to his repeated failures to repay past debts. Denholm does offer his brother a place to go into hiding, however, a location where no one is likely to find him – ever.

* Life is very different in the high-tech, consumer-driven, totalitarian world of Korea’s Neo Seoul in 2144. “Pure-blood” humans live lives of privilege, comfort and luxury, served dutifully by genetically engineered beings known as “fabricants.” The cloned humans attend to the wants and needs of pure-bloods without question – most of the time. But when one of the fabricants, Sonmi-451 (Doona Bae), gets out of line (assisted by resistance fighter Hae Joo Chang (Jim Sturgess), who knows the real reason behind the created beings’ existence), life in Neo Seoul is disrupted, threatening the prevailing social order – and the future – of a world precariously hanging in the balance.

* One hundred winters after “The Fall,” humanity has degenerated into an existence not unlike that found in the “Mad Max” movies. Even in a locale as supposedly idyllic as Hawaii, daily life is a challenge. Were it not for the occasional visits of “the Prescients,” the world’s last remaining civilized beings, life would be even more difficult for the tribal people of this lush but now dangerous land. But the Prescients call on the locals for reasons other than providing humanitarian assistance; they’re looking for something, and they need the natives’ help in finding it. They get that chance when the local abbess (Susan Sarandon) is unable to treat the deathly ill niece of Zachry (Tom Hanks), one of the island’s tribesmen. Meronym (Halle Berry), a Prescient healer, steps in to help, restoring the young woman’s well-being. In exchange for Meronym’s assistance, Zachry consents to his Prescient visitor’s request: that he escort her to the top of a nearby mountain, the home of what the locals believe to be evil spirits – and the alleged location of what Meronym and her colleagues are looking for. One can’t even begin to imagine what they’ll find there.

Thus begins the amazing odyssey that is “Cloud Atlas.” And what a ride it is, both for its story and the concepts it embodies.

As conscious creation practitioners are well aware, everything in our created reality is interconnected. Indeed, if we recognize that we use our thoughts, beliefs and intents to manifest the world around us, then we must also realize that we do so to create the totality of that surrounding reality. But this applies not only to the immediate world around us; it also relates to the greater existence of which we, as multidimensional beings, are a part. Our materialization initiatives thus extend beyond our localized existence, reaching into the other timelines, and even the other dimensional planes, in which other portions of our greater selves dwell. Because of that, we must endeavor to be conscious of the choices we make and the responsibility inherent in that, for these considerations carry implications that may be far more wide-ranging than we realize.

“Cloud Atlas” illustrates these notions brilliantly, and in myriad ways, from start to finish. It’s apparent in the recurrent themes connecting the various story lines. It’s present in the relationships and interactions among the characters (and their spirits) across time. It’s even visible in the undeniable sense of familiarity that bonds souls to one another from era to era, a connection more profound than anything that can be afforded by physical existence.

Given the intrinsic nature of connectedness, it can be applied to every aspect of existence, and, as conscious creators, we’re free to explore it from any angle we choose. Covering all the bases in this regard in any one film, however, would be unwieldy and impractical, and so “Cloud Atlas” wisely focuses on a select handful of areas, offering them up as examples of this larger principle. Throughout its various narratives, the picture explores such ideas as freedom vs. captivity, kindness vs. brutality, benevolence vs. greed and compassion vs. callousness. We repeatedly witness how the choices we make in these areas resonate through time, how the scenarios we create offer us opportunities to learn valuable life lessons, and how we may ultimately draw upon these experiences to grow and develop as human beings.

All of this, of course, assumes that reincarnation is a given and that we each get opportunities to live out different kinds of lives. Our spirits can don the costumes of both villain and hero, creator and destroyer, healer and killer, as well as the trappings of both genders and all ethnicities (all clearly borne out through the multiple character portrayals of the principal cast members). These assorted incarnations allow us to experience the full range of probabilities that conscious creation makes possible and provide us with opportunities to work out our karma, in all cases for better or worse, enabling us to become the individuals – and the spirits – we’re truly capable of being.

“Cloud Atlas” is an incredibly ambitious project, well executed in virtually every respect. The performances are terrific across the board, an amazing feat considering the demanding multiple characterizations involved (wait until you see the full list of who played who in the closing credits!). It’s also technically brilliant, breathtakingly beautiful in its cinematography and special effects and masterful in its sets, designs, costumes and makeup, all backed up by an ethereal, emotive musical score. It draws inspiration from a wide range of films in a variety of genres, including everything from “Mutiny on the Bounty” to “The China Syndrome” to “Blade Runner,” successfully paying homage to them all but without ever becoming a blatant impersonator.

The film is, admittedly, a little slow in the first 30 minutes, but, given the setup work involved in getting six story lines off the ground, that’s easily overlooked. Likewise, the movie has a tendency to wear its metaphysics on its sleeve, but, considering the subject matter involved, I’d rather the film overcompensate on this aspect than cryptically understate its intentions. Perhaps the only area in need of some serious tweaking would be in some of the dialogue of the post-apocalyptic Hawaiian sequence; it’s a little too “Mad Max” for my taste, at times almost indiscernible and a tad pretentious.

Nevertheless, at the risk of overstatement, “Cloud Atlas” truly is epic filmmaking, one of the most impressive releases in recent years. I must confess that I had some reservations about this picture going in, given that it was the product of the makers of “The Matrix” series, a collection of films that I thought was highly overrated. Not so with this offering; it lives up to every bit of its billing. The picture is best enjoyed on the big screen, so be sure to catch it in theaters while you have the opportunity; you’ll want to savor every grand, sweeping moment as it majestically unfolds before you. And if it affects you as much as it did me, you’ll emerge from the darkness walking on air. But then with a title like “Cloud Atlas,” who would expect anything less?

Movies with sports themes are often some of the corniest, most predictable and yet also most inspiring films that find their way into release. Their outcomes seldom come as any surprise, but we watch them all the way through, if for no other reason than the ample good feelings they fill us with. Those that recognize the efforts of underdogs, like “Hoosiers” (1986), “Cool Runnings” (1993), “Breaking Away” (1979) and “Secretariat” (2010), easily get our attention. But those that celebrate unlikely champions competing under extraordinary extenuating circumstances, such as “Glory Road” (2006), “The Express” (2008), “A League of Their Own” (1992), “Miracle” (2004) and “The Blind Side” (2009), captivate us. Such is the case with the recently released documentary, “The Other Dream Team.”

The world was a rapidly changing place in 1992. The Cold War had recently ended, the Berlin Wall had just fallen and the U.S.S.R. was in the process of breaking up. Several once-occupied nations, such as the Baltic states of Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia, had declared their independence and emerged from Soviet domination. Indeed, the global geopolitical stage was shifting in ways no one would have thought conceivable just a few years before.

The implications of these changes were seen in many aspects of life. One of the most visible areas was in the world of sports. This became most apparent at the 1992 Summer Olympics in Barcelona, Spain, where a number of new nations competed for the first time or after protracted absences. Among the new entrants were the aforementioned Baltic states, countries that, although small in size, were formidable as competitors. This was particularly true for Lithuania in the sport of basketball.

Lithuanians have long loved basketball, and the tiny nation had been a powerhouse in the sport in European tournaments as far back as the 1930s. However, when Lithuania was annexed by the Soviet Union in 1944 and vanished as a sovereign state, so did much of the world’s awareness of the country, its culture and its traditions, including in the world of sport. What’s more, because of this loss of independence, Lithuanian athletes were prohibited from competing internationally under their own flag; they now had to do so under the Soviet banner.

Lithuanians contributed significantly to Soviet sports accomplishments in the five decades that they competed for the U.S.S.R. This was perhaps most obvious in the basketball tournament at the 1988 Summer Olympics in Seoul, South Korea, when the Soviets beat the heavily favored U.S. team on their way to winning the Gold Medal, and they did so by fielding a team on which four of the five starters were Lithuanians. However, despite such success, Lithuanian competitors resented having to represent themselves as “Soviets” rather than as “Lithuanians.” They grew especially irate when erroneously referred to as “Russians,” particularly since only two members of the 1988 medal-winning team actually fit that cultural label.

When Lithuania gained its autonomy, its athletes were anxious to compete under their own flag at the Barcelona Olympics. They wanted to show the world what they could do. They were also anxious to settle scores with representatives of their former occupiers on a leveled playing field. But getting to the Olympics took money, something the bankrupt fledgling state seriously lacked. Raising funds to pursue this goal thus became a priority.

After achieving only meager results in its initial fundraising efforts, the team got a big boost from a very unlikely source, the American rock band, the Grateful Dead. The band members were big fans of both basketball and underdogs, so when they heard about the team’s struggles, they wrote a huge check to support its efforts. They also supplied the players with tie-dyed tee shirts featuring the band’s infamous skeleton logo and printed in the colors of the Lithuanian flag. Grateful for the Dead’s support, the team enthusiastically embraced the band’s assistance, ubiquitously sporting their donated gear both before and during the Olympics.

As colorful as the Lithuanians’ odyssey had been, however, the overarching story of the Barcelona tournament was the U.S. team. The 1992 Olympics marked the first time that professional players were allowed to compete, and so the Americans assembled a team featuring such NBA all-stars as Michael Jordan, Scottie Pippen, Magic Johnson, Larry Bird, Charles Barkley and David Robinson, a lineup that became better known as “the Dream Team.” It was a team that lived up to every bit of its billing, too, handily defeating all of its opponents (including the Lithuanians in a semifinal game) on its way to nabbing the Gold Medal.

But the Lithuanians were not to be denied their moment of glory. Despite their loss to the Americans (which honestly came as no surprise), the Lithuanians, as one of the tournament’s final four teams, qualified to compete in the Bronze Medal game against the Unified Team, a squad made up of players from the remaining Soviet republics at the time. The Lithuanians would thus get an opportunity to redeem themselves against representatives of their nation’s former occupiers, an event whose ramifications clearly went beyond just sports.

The story of the Lithuanian basketball team was one of more than just its proficiency on the court. It was a tale of personal and national pride, the significance of which becomes apparent in the film’s back story about life in Lithuania under 50 years of Soviet domination. The picture presents detailed documentation of everyday life, as well as the rigidly regimented routines imposed on Lithuanian members of the Soviet national team, during that period. It’s easy to see how such pervasive oppression took its toll – and how anxious Lithuanians, from all walks of life, were to pursue the dream of freedom when the opportunity finally presented itself.

Viewers are thus treated to a moving tale of courage, character, justice and inspiration, as well as the inherent power of beliefs. We witness the resolve of a team – and a nation – that knows what each is truly capable of manifesting for itself, a hallmark of conscious creation expertise. The film also documents the lasting legacy of such valor on contemporary Lithuanians, as told through the experience of Jonas Valanciunas, an aspiring basketball phenomenon and NBA prospect born in 1992 who grew up with the legend of his national team’s Olympic success.

“The Other Dream Team” is an engaging documentary from start to finish, conveying its material with heartfelt emotion and uplifting vision in both its political and sports-related narratives. It successfully avoids the temptation of getting too technical, presenting clear, concise explanations without resorting to superficiality or empty platitudes. It incorporates a wealth of archival footage and a wide variety of recent interviews, including team members Arvydas Sabonis, Šarūnas Marčiulionis and Rimas Kurtinaitis, as well as sports journalists Jim Lampley and Alexander Wolff, basketball analyst Bill Walton, Dream Team member Chris Mullin, NBA commissioner David Stern, former Lithuanian head of state Vytautas Landsbergis, Mickey Hart of the Grateful Dead, and tee shirt designer Greg Speirs.

On the surface, a documentary about a basketball team from a little-known European nation might not sound like an especially noteworthy topic for a feature-length movie, but “The Other Dream Team” defies such thinking. It shows us how one need not be famous to be a superstar, that greatness is something we’re each capable of achieving – as long as we believe we can.

Truth can be an elusive commodity, especially when intentionally tainted with deceit. It can be even more nebulous when the underlying intentions are being directed toward the fulfillment of a noble cause. Navigating the minefield of truth and deception is one of the tasks put to the characters in – and the audiences of – one of this year’s most anticipated new releases, director Ben Affleck’s historical thriller, “Argo.”

In November 1979, militants protesting the ongoing American presence in Iran seized the U.S, embassy in Tehran, an act in support of their country’s recent Islamic Revolution and in retribution for various grievances with their Western foe, some of which had been smoldering for decades. The protestors took 66 Americans hostage, 52 of whom would end up being held captive for 444 days. Their actions thus sparked a protracted, volatile diplomatic exchange between the two countries, one whose ramifications were wide-ranging (and whose impact has been felt ever since).

While the world’s attention was focused on events at the embassy, however, another incident involving Americans was quietly playing out in the shadows of Tehran. And, although this second crisis was smaller in scale, it nevertheless carried implications potentially as significant as those unfolding at the captured diplomatic compound.

At the time the embassy was overrun, six Americans managed to elude the protestors by escaping through a back entrance. They eventually made their way to the home of Canadian ambassador Ken Taylor (Victor Garber), who agreed to take them in while plans for their escape from Iran were developed. But, after weeks in hiding, and with growing concerns about the Americans’ continued safety (not to mention that of their Canadian hosts), Taylor contacted U.S. government officials for help.

Intelligence officials in the U.S. debated a number of options, all of which proved unworkable. It became apparent that getting the six Americans out of Iran would take a miracle, a rescue plan that would clearly involve thinking outside of the box. That’s where CIA “exfiltration” expert Tony Mendez (Ben Affleck) came into play. As a specialist proficient in hatching deceptive schemes to extricate individuals from dangerous situations, Mendez was charged with developing a convincing ruse for safely and clandestinely escorting the Americans out of Iran. His plan was, to say the least, unique.

Mendez proposed that he visit Iran posing as a producer from a Canadian film production company that was scouting locations for a science fiction movie, titled “Argo,” to be shot in Tehran and its surroundings. While in country, he would meet with the Americans, provide them with fabricated Canadian identities and professional dossiers (as members of a fictitious film production crew), and then quietly usher them out of Iran on a flight bound for Zürich, Switzerland.

But to make the plan work, it had to appear credible in case anyone decided to investigate the cover story. And so, in advance of his trip to Iran, Mendez worked with Hollywood professionals to set up a phony production company for the bogus film and to generate publicity for it. Mendez tapped one of his longtime associates, Oscar-winning makeup artist John Chambers (John Goodman), and veteran producer Lester Siegel (Alan Arkin) to head up the newly created Studio Six Productions, giving the project an air of seeming legitimacy. With the dummy company in place (and the Hollywood press buying every word of its trumped-up promotion), and with the official (but secret) blessings of both the U.S. and Canadian governments, the stage was set for Mendez to embark on his journey, one that was fraught with twists, turns and perils right up until the time of the Americans’ flight to freedom.

Questions of truth and deceit, to a great degree, rest on the issue of believability, the driving force in conscious creation, and those considerations certainly take center stage in “Argo” in numerous ways. For instance, those behind the rescue plan – most notably Mendez, Siegel, Chambers and Mendez’s boss (Bryan Cranston) – understand what’s at stake and what’s needed to carry it out successfully. And even though an intentional deception may be involved, it’s an integral part of the plan, one necessary to formulate the beliefs required for manifesting the trapped Americans’ safe return.

Indeed, the very workability of the plan depends on the Iranians believing as truth the deceit being put forth by Mendez and company. For that to happen, the participants in the deception need to accept its validity just as fervently as those being fooled. The trapped American embassy workers ultimately must follow Mendez’s lead in thoroughly buying into their contrived identities as Canadian nationals employed by a film production company. To do less would place them in jeopardy, especially in light of the intense scrutiny that Westerners leaving the country were subjected to by Iranian security officials.

The inherent difficulty in this should be obvious, especially for those who genuinely embrace the role of integrity in belief formation and reality creation. This becomes most apparent in the doubts expressed by Joe Stafford (Scoot McNairy), one of the six Mendez is charged with rescuing. He’s initially convinced he won’t be able to pull it off. But Stafford’s attitude quickly changes when Mendez reminds him that his life depends on being able to carry out the deception. When faced with the virtual certainty of execution if caught and captured by the Iranians, Stafford goes along with the plan, the painful “truth” of the inevitable alternative outweighing whatever belief compromises he must make in carrying out the ruse. When the continued viability of one’s existence is threatened, it can become remarkably easy to adjust one’s beliefs to accommodate the prevailing circumstances.

Of course, truth and deceit figure into this film in ways other than just its narrative. They play a significant role in the picture’s historical accuracy, and it’s on this point where “Argo” lets its viewers down. This film brings new meaning to the phrase “based on a true story,” mainly because of its glaring deviations from how events were said to have unfolded. Several events are presented out of historical sequence, Siegel’s character is a fictitious composite and the film’s concluding segment, when viewed in light of the Wired magazine article upon which the screenplay is based, is a complete fabrication.

While I understand that “Argo” is meant to be entertainment and not a documentary, I nevertheless object to the filmmakers taking such license with the facts. As one who spent years studying and working in the fields of journalism and history, it’s troubling that the picture’s creators felt the need to alter the historical account to such a degree just to sell movie tickets. To be fair, this film does give due credit to the previously unrecognized American heroes who participated in this endeavor. That’s important because, for years after the rescue, CIA involvement in the affair was classified, and all of the accolades went to the brave Canadians who sheltered the trapped Americans (as was widely depicted in press reports at the time and in a 1981 made-for-Canadian-TV movie, “Escape From Iran: The Canadian Caper.”) However, such overdue recognition, in my opinion, has been unduly tarnished by the embellished treatment given to the American heroes’ story.

So what’s the bottom line for this film? In my view, it depends on what you hope to get out of it. If you’re looking for an entertaining thriller, go see it; you won’t be disappointed by its taut level of suspense and its well-crafted action sequences. The performances by its ensemble cast are stellar, too, especially those of Arkin, who turns in some of his best work as the wise-cracking producer, and Affleck, who successfully resists his usual temptation to mug for the camera and gives one of the most mature portrayals of his career.

However, if, like me, you’re a stickler for authenticity, you’ll likely come away from this film disappointed. In addition to its historical narrative problems, “Argo” also suffers from extreme mood changes that don’t mesh well with one another. The tension generated by the dramatic segments set in Tehran and Washington contrasts sharply with the more light-hearted humorous sequences shot in Hollywood. Each is done well by itself, but, regrettably, they don’t integrate effectively. Admittedly, successfully fusing life in two very different worlds is a challenging undertaking, but it can be done, as was the case, for example, in “The Crying Game” (1992). “Argo,” unfortunately, doesn’t measure up in this regard.

Most critics have been favorably impressed with this offering, and the picture has received considerable awards season buzz. But, considering both the film’s strengths and shortcomings, it’s hard to say exactly how truly deserving it is of the praise it has received. In the end, it all probably depends on one’s expectations. And that’s the truth.

About Me

As a lifelong movie fan and longtime student of metaphysics (with an emphasis on conscious creation/law of attraction principles), I’m the author of "Third Real: Conscious Creation Goes Back to the Movies," "Consciously Created Cinema: The Movie Lover's Guide to the Law of Attraction" and the award-winning "Get the Picture?!: Conscious Creation Goes to the Movies." In addition, I'm Movie Correspondent for The Good Media Network, providing monthly review segments to its Frankiesense & More show and weekly Movies with Meaning posts to the network's web site. My additional writings include contributions to Smart Women's Empowerment, New Consciousness Review, The HAPI Guide, Library Journal, New Age News, BeliefNet, VividLife and Master Heart Magazine. Hear my additional radio reports on Bring Me 2 Life's twice-monthly Cinema Scribe segments and on New Consciousness Review radio's quarterly Reviewers Roundtable.